


Threshold

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feren’s on watch when Erebor’s ambassador arrives and Tauriel greets him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threshold

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s Tauriel/Ori “Anything with these two, but i would really like to see serious mutual feelings” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/10731.html?thread=21991403#t21991403).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He comes trotting up the way on his little, shaggy pony, fat, as dwarves and their steeds are wont to be. At least it’s better than the pigs some ride on. Feren still has to force his nose not to wrinkle as the stout little traveler crosses the bridge, nervously looking out for trained archers. Their alliance is no longer new, but it’ll always be somewhat tenuous. At least this one is also something of a pacifist: quiet, and not prone to carrying weapons. The bags packed behind him are likely full of books instead, scrolls and blank parchment, ready to be filled out and signed anew. He’s a decent enough ambassador, though it’s still strange to deal in such a way with dwarves at all. 

Stranger still is the way the captain of the guards rushes out to meet him. Tauriel streaks past Feren, her orange hair blowing back in the wind of her own making. She moves much faster than the dwarf’s steed. He looks up at her immediately, smiling wide and halting his pony. He’s slipped off by the time she’s reached him, her long arms wrapping around his short ones. 

The embrace is warm, lingering. Feren, on duty outside the gates, tries not to look directly at them: that would be rude. But he can’t help observing them in his peripherals. He has a great deal of respect for Tauriel, though he’s usually too stoic to show it, and of course he’s curious over the new dwarf that’s captured her heart. 

When they pull back, she sweeps the ruddy bangs off his forehead and pecks him, making his cheeks flush red and his lips smile beneath his thin mustache. The scruff of his beard isn’t as full as most dwarves, but it still must scratch when she kisses him. She lovingly strokes a braid in front of his ear, idly toying with his hair as she speaks. They’re too far away and her voice is too hushed for Feren to hear the words, even with his superior hearing. He could probably catch it if he strained, but he allows his captain that privacy. The little dwarf murmurs something back, likely how he _missed_ her. Anyone would. Then he turns back to his pony and digs through his pack, presenting a thick, ancient-looking volume that Tauriel takes with delight. A relic from the Erebor library, no doubt. Though she’s chosen to stay, Tauriel has always possessed an affinity for knowledge and the things outside their kingdom. 

She kisses her dwarf properly. He looks dizzy when she pulls away, and she grins, likely at his sweet innocence. Feren is glad, at least, for that—she’s chosen a kind scribe, and not one of those obnoxious warriors. 

Still, how did a _Dwarven scribe_ get a woman like _her_? She’s brave, beautiful, talented beyond belief and passionate. Surely, she could have any man she wanted, be it elf or dwarf or even halfling. 

But she seems content with her unworthy lover, and that’s what matters. After all she’s suffered, Feren’s glad to see her happy. When Tauriel guides them off towards the open gates, the dwarf spots Feren and smiles. Feren allows an upwards twitch of his lips in return, though if his king ever asked him of it, he’d deny it to the last. 

As they approach, Tauriel calls to him, “Feren, please see to Ori’s pony.” He nods his acceptance immediately.

The dwarf, who’s mortal name Feren has already forgotten, adds a sheepish, “Thank you.” Feren notices that his chubby hand is in Tauriel’s, the mismatched shapes of their fingers fitting oddly well together. They disappear through the door, leaving a small furry beast behind, watching Feren with a languid sort of expression. As its rider and his lover disappear, the pony glances at the open doors, neighing and flicking its tail. 

Feren sighs below his breath, “Me too, friend. Me too.” 

But neither of them is so lucky to follow. Feren closes the gates for now and takes the pony off to the stables, where perhaps it can find a taller mate of its own.


End file.
